Nobody's Guaranteed their "Someday"

Clocks only really tell you how much time has gone past. They don't create time. Moments in the future may not happen. "Someday" may never come.

I lost a friend and colleague yesterday. He had been diagnosed with prostate cancer a short while before I had. Another colleague recommended I contact him since we were very close in age and he was trying a newer, alternative (possibly experimental) treatment. I remember being less afraid and more mad when I was first diagnosed (which prompted my very first blog post ever). I remember the first phone call I made to him - he was so gracious, and took it upon himself to be my cheerleader. Anyone who knew him would not be surprised at all by this; this was Michael. You always felt better after speaking with him - he made it about you, not him.

His own PSA levels (the blood work indicator that prostate cancer may be an unwelcome tenant in your body) were appallingly, ridiculously high. When he told me what his levels were, I was so scared for him that I went to my go-to, which is humor. "Is that a record? Will we see you in Guinness?" He laughed, and said that he had asked his doctor the same thing, but even though the doctor had said it wasn't the highest recorded, he personally had not seen them that elevated. Neither had my doctors, when I shared his numbers, and the look on their faces should have prepared me better then for hearing of the loss today. But it didn't - one of the few things I am certain Michael and I shared, in addition to working for the same company and an overwhelming desire to help others, was optimism. My entire thought process for Michael from that point forward was that I was going to be able to tell others that I knew a guy who had scary-high PSA levels, but that he BEAT it - he's doing fine. Michael was going to be my underdog story - in case anyone with higher-than-my PSA levels asked me for support (because that's what happens - you unknowingly join a fairly large support group), I was going to be able to say, "There's this guy I know, Michael, who...".

He was supposed to beat this. Guys like Michael aren't supposed to leave this early. so much to do; so many lives still to touch. But sometimes the underdog doesn't win. Sometimes the cancer does. Sometimes all the optimism, positive thinking, prayers, etc. aren't enough.

The clock stopped for Michael yesterday. My heart goes out to his family. We've all got a clock. Make sure you're not wasting your clock's time. Make sure you're saying the things that need to be said. Tell the people you love that you love them. Hug someone. Stop putting that trip off. Don't keep waiting for "someday". And if you're male and over the age of 50 (40-45 if this runs in your family) - schedule yourself for a physical and make sure they test for this. I'd like to think Michael would agree with this. Peace.

Dishwasher

Confession: I put no thought at all into how I put items into our dishwasher. I know what you're thinking - typical male. I know I'm supposed to give this some attention, and it really does make a difference what's on the top and bottom shelves, but to be brutally honest about it, it doesn't matter at all.

It doesn't matter because I live with the dishwasher police. Just joking! <jk>  ;)
Except I'm not. My wife can be on the other side of the house, on a different floor, using the vacuum cleaner, and by the time I have the dishwasher open, she's standing behind me, watching where I'm going to place whatever dish I have in my hand. It's like when you're speeding on a wide open, straight road, with nowhere a cop could be hiding, and suddenly, there's flashing red and blue lights in your rear view mirror. To her credit, she never arrests corrects me, she now simply lets me put the dish wherever my poor, simple, male mind thinks it should go, waits until I leave, opens the dishwasher, and moves it to where it's "supposed" to go. Of course, I hear the dishwasher open, the clinking of the plates; I can even hear what she's thinking as she puts the dishes in "the right places". By the way, these places seems to change according to...well, something, I'm sure, so it's not like I can actually "learn" where it goes. It's kind of like decorating a Christmas tree, when you think the ornament looks great where you placed it - as a matter of fact, it's been in that same spot the last three Christmases - but no, not this year. Now it doesn't go there anymore; I must be an idiot.

I used to try to argue my position, much as I'd imagine an attorney would, if said attorney was embroiled in a heated legal dispute concerning the placement of dishes in the dishwasher. Considering some of the insanity I've seen in the courts lately, this is not impossible.
Me: "Aha! So you admit, that on the previously aforementioned evening in the summer of 2012, you did, indeed, with malice of forethought, actually place the bundt cake tin in the UPPER shelf, which resulted in not only the dishwasher NOT being damaged, nor any damage being incurred  by the bundt tin's associates, namely, the spatula and microwave-safe icing tool, but also the bundt tin surviving completely clean?!?!?"
Wife: "You're insane."
Me: "Answer the question, damnit!!"
Surprisingly, this did not go over well. Even though I was totally right about the bundt tin.

I'm not criticizing my wife by the way - I exhibit the same behavior myself, so that would be hypocritical. For example, we have, as I'm sure many of you have as well, a steak knife block. Since we're both right-handed, I believe the serrated blade should face to the right, so that it is not in the direction of our bodies when we remove the knife from the block. This seems logical and safe to me, but my wife, even though made aware of this, often puts them in the "wrong" way. At some point, I will mimic her dishwasher behavior, and surreptitiously turn the knives the "right" way, normally when she's not around. She's probably, at least up to this point, unaware I do this. I say "up to this point" because I am well aware that she reads my blog. So I guess I AM an idiot, after all.

But this is what married people do. She's not wrong or right, and neither am I - we just look at things differently. Then we correct each other/for each other. Without becoming angry over it. This is also a measure of the health of your relationship - if you're both doing this, and are aware the other is, and it remains a "small" thing - you have a strong, loving relationship. No one ever gets divorced over improper dishwasher loading; that's just the excuse because the larger issues remain unvoiced. Those little differences? They really don't matter at all. Except for the steak knife thing. I'm also totally right about that. Peace.

Am I Just Making Expensive Pee?

Multivitamins and supplements. I take them, but I'm always wondering: are they making me healthier, or am I just making really expensive urine?

Why do I wonder? There's just so many conflicting opinions. Healthcare professionals, and by that I mean people who work at GNC or The Vitamin Shoppe, highly recommend them, using specialized technical jargon like, "Creatine", "Branched Chain Amino Acids" and "Bro". Apparently I need pre-workout, during workout and post-workout powders/drinks/syringes if I want "to get really huge". Fortunately, these only come in 55-gallon drum sizes, so I'm pretty sure the act of carrying them to my car and into my house will help me get "huge". Or a hernia - no pain, no gain, Bro. Besides, getting huge is a young man's game - I'm just trying to neutralize the pre-death rigor-mortis that appears to have laid claim to my body.

Doctors, those "other" healthcare professionals, who think they know everything because they've gone to higher-education institutions for a decade or so, can name every bone in the human body, and amassed enough student-loan debt to exceed our national debt, won't really weigh in on the matter. Except Dr. Oz, of course. who, among other "miracles", suggests we drink a special green coffee (that means the beans aren't roasted, so obviously they have magical powers) because it will help us lose weight, re-grow hair, get Congress to actually DO something and bring peace to our planet. And we should trust him, because:

1. he's a doctor
2. he's got his own TV show
3. he's endorsed by Oprah 
4. he's got a REALLY cool name

Here's the other thing I can't figure out - they sell multivitamins, right? Which have somewhere upwards of 357,000 different vitamins at potencies of more than 50,000 times what the RDA is, all in...ONE PILL. But I can also buy pills that are composed, supposedly, of just ONE of those 357,000 vitamins, and somehow, they can actually be LARGER than the multivitamin - how is that even possible? This is a question, along with, how can you possibly fit 4 normal-sized adults in a Fiat 500, that needs to be answered.

One of the supplements I take is Omega-3. Well, actually, it's SUPER Omega-3; which is obviously WAY better than NORMAL Omega-3. If they came out with a Super-Duper Omega-3, you know I'd be all over that bad boy. The Omega-3 I take has no fish oil in it even though I know fish oil is considered the Captain America of Omega-3 supplements. That's because fish oil burps, which are inevitable when taking fish oil capsules, taste like, you guessed it, fish oil. Actually, they taste like the fish vomit from a fish that has eaten several fish that have ingested fish oil capsules. I imagine you could come close to the same experience gargling with the oil that sardines are packed in, followed by rubbing anchovies over your lips after working a 10 hour day at a fish market. Really - a fish oil burp can make you want to rip your own face off. People in your immediate vicinity, and by that I mean a 2-block radius, also want to rip their own faces off.

The multivitamin I take, while not causing toxic burps, does turn my urine an interesting color. I imagine I could get the same effect by sucking on a yellow highlighter for several hours. And again, it's hard to figure out if I'm doing myself any good, or am I just throwing money down the toilet, literally.

Hey, if I eat asparagus every day as well, I can get nearly glow-in-the-dark, strange smelling, and expensive urine. Throw in some fish oil capsules, weaponize it to be delivered via drone strikes, and we can rule the world. A better world, through the targeted delivery of multivitamins and supplements. Peace.